Thankless Job
by Liesie
Summary: A morbid Orc Death Knight sings a gruesome little ditty while out harvesting organs for a quest in Dragonblight.


**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**World of Warcraft**_** or **_**Repo! the Genetic Opera.**_

**This little one-shot was born while listening to "Thankless Job" as sung by Alexander Stewart Head on the **_**Repo!**_** soundtrack while leveling an alt. In order to find a character that the morbidity of the song properly fit, I invented the imaginary Orc Death Knight you see before you. The song will make more sense if you listen to it on YouTube in the background, given its unusual meter and nonexistent rhyme scheme.**

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Korak lumbered down the frost-covered main street of Agmar's Hammer with a bored sneer upon his pallid green mouth. Another town (if this mish-mash of decrepit buildings all facing the same general point could be called a town), another dozen indolent townsfolk with tedious and generally dangerous tasks for a greedy adventurer like himself to perform.

A Forsaken with wild hair toiling over a table covered in alchemical equipment caught the Death Knight's eye. A few vials and beakers emitted multi-hued puffs of smoke as the scientist flitted between them, sprinkling a strange powder over their rims that the Orc couldn't identify. Korak dabbled in alchemy himself; perhaps this man could teach him some new formulas. He marched up to him.

Before Korak could open his mouth to ask for training, the scientist glanced in his direction and began a rehearsed speech. "With Scourge comes death and disease. We often overlook that the wildlife of a Scourge-infested area is ravaged and ultimately destroyed by rot and contagion." He paused to face the other man. "For most of the indigenous beasts of the Dragonblight, it is too late. The festering disease that the Scourge brings has already infected the beasts, and they are now rabid and rotting." The Forsaken returned to his experiments. "You must venture west, towards the Pit of Narjun, and cull the infected wildlife. Check their corpses for a preserved organ, as we need one to devise a vaccine."

Korak remained unfettered at the scientist's outburst. This happened to him all the time. He would walk within ranting distance of someone and be assailed with a brief description of a task's purpose and the way to accomplish it. Usually he just nodded and returned with the desired item to find a pile of gold and gear waiting for him. _Looks like today is no different,_ he commented silently in an unenthusiastic manner. Without another thought, he summoned forth his chilly dreadsteed and galloped west to decapitate some local fauna.

The grind seemed to be an uncharacteristically long one today. Seven dead elk, and not one unscathed organ. The tedium was beginning to wear on Korak. He tried to find some way of entertaining himself. Sure enough, his morbid sense of humor quickly reared its depraved head.

As he cleaved the next animal's head from its body, a song spilled from his lips. The dark lyrics were only enhanced by the gravelly growl his frozen vocal chords produced. "It's a thankless job," the carcass thudded wetly to the newly stained snow, "but somebody's got to do it." Korak sliced the elk's stomach and reached inside to further open the dripping hole. "Peelin' off the tissue inch by inch." A grunt mingled with the song on the next syllable when his hand clumsily broke a few ribs. "Skinning off the muscle, too."

Shifting the corpse to a more manageable angle, he continued to sing. "Harvestin' the kidneys for the fall; savin' up the livers in the fridge." The beast's glazed eyes stared unseeingly at its murderer a few yards from its body. "No one ever thanks me when I'm done; how self-absorbed people can be." All of the organs laid before him bore the taint of the Scourge. Korak growled. He'd just have to kill another.

Death Grip brought a bleating elk onto the edge of his axe. "With a slice--" _slice!_ "--or a snip--" _snick!_ "Eeny, meeny, miney, moe!" A deranged guffaw escaped his blood-spattered lips. "With a cut--" _cut!_ "--and a stitch--" _stitch!_ "Returning organs brand new." As the animal crumpled to the ground, Korak's demented peal of laughter spilled into the clearing.

Delving into the body with his blade, Korak plunged into the next verse. "It's a thankless job, but somebody's got to do it." Several contaminated organs were cast roughly to the bloody ground. "Like a mop," out went the liver, "and a broom." Discovering this creature's insides to be wholly claimed by the Plague, Korak reared back into an upright position to glare coldly at it. "No one wants a thankless job." His final word turned into a snarl as he stomped his spiked plate boot into the elk's panic-stricken face, cracking its skull and penetrating its brain.

Eventually, Korak found an uncontaminated organ to return to the alchemist (taken from a polar bear of all things), was paid for his services, and went on his way to terrorize other hapless creatures across the frigid tundras of Northrend. Singing "Thankless Job" under his breath became a sort of therapy for the Death Knight during lengthy quest grinds. He once sang it while tanking Azjol'Nerub, but it disturbed the healer so much that she was momentarily stupefied, allowing the pack of spider men to land several crippling hits on Korak. The Spirit Healer saw a healthy amount of business that day.

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**Gruesome, no? A Death Knight might be the only man who could successfully imitate A. S. H. on this song without a voice changer. Now, go watch _Repo!_, or at least read the summary of it on Wikipedia.**


End file.
